Gone Fishing
by ForwardOperator
Summary: Being part of a multinational task force in the middle of WWIII is a tough job; being in love at the sometime, that's something else entirely. Follow the adventures of TF141 operator Allison Fisher through the events of MW2, as she and her fireteam buddy, Roach go through the best and worst the world as to offer. Roach/OC pairing. Non Slash.
**This will hopefully be the start of what I hope will at least span MW2. I will jump forward in the story as writing every single scene will be tedious; if you don't know what's happening, go play MW2. Now I will not accept other pairings and/or angry messaging about character's being OOC or a better couple with someone else. You don't like the story don't read it. But if you have a legitimate complaint, then feel free to leave a comment and/or review. Until then enjoy.**

"You gonna eat that?" The question came from the operator's right just as he peeled back the wrapper from the bar.

Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson rolled his eyes as he took a bite out of the practically rock hard protein bar before passing the half eaten bar over to his comrade; .

"Thanks" The comrade in question, Sgt. Allison "Trout" Fisher, replied before the protein bar disappeared into her mouth. The nonchalant conversation didn't bother the pair, as they sat on their heels, on the ledge of an ice cliff overlooking a fatal drop. The cliff face shielded them from the rushing wind, not that either would have minded at this point as their cold weather gear kept them warm enough, and both had long since gone insensitive to the biting wind. The rumbling of a jet resounded overhead, neither bothered to give it a second glance; having heard it many times on the way up.

"Breaks over. Let's go" The voice came from the pair's right, and both gave a glance over as Captain MacTavish threw away his worn down cigar stub and stood to toe his way across the ledge. Trout and Roach shared a look, his grey eyes meeting her green through their tinted ballistic goggles, they had both been ready to continue the mission; but they had stopped to allow the older MacTavish to rest, although he would never admit it. "Ice is good. Follow me."

"Who builds this high on a damn arctic mountain?" Trout's voice was muffled through her white woolen balaclava; but it came through loud and clear into the other's ears. She continued her one sided conversation as she followed Roach up and grunted in annoyance as powdery ice fell onto her head and down her collar. "For that matter,what crazy bastard would fly out of here or even land in this weather?"

"Someone who claimed they could fly a chopper out of a firefight because they skimmed the manual once." Roach responded as dug his pick into the cliffside just below the edge and hauled himself up.

"Hey, I got us out didn't I?" Trout's head appeared over the edge and took Roach's proffered hand, which pulled her up onto the higher ice shelf.

"Meat dislocated his shoulder, and Worm had to get an MRI." The retort caused Trout to huff in frustration as the captain took a running leap forward to get to where they were going next. Trout looked skeptically at the jump before taking a small step back and sprinting forward she hit the ice and slid downwards slightly before stopping. Roach took a breath has he prepared for his turn, after all what could go wrong?

* * *

"Why does he get the thermal scope?" Trout muttered unhappily as she shook blood away from her knife and stood up from the corpse of the sentry she had literally run into. On her left Roach pulled away his suppressed pistol from beneath his sentry's chin.

"He wouldn't be able to keep up." Roach answered as he grabbed the foot of his sentry and dragged the bloody mess of a head out of sight from the road; while Trout did the same with her guard

"I heard that." MacTavish's voice cut in as the pair pressed against the side of a Quonset hut and waited as a pair of sentries passed by, their weapon's dangling next to their hips as they talked loudly above the whining of the wind; oblivious to the two operators and dead bodies hidden to their left.. Roach waited until their Russian faded into the distance, before giving a quick peak for confirmation and moving from cover.

"I'm surprised a man of your age can still hear us….sir" Trout responded once she was sure they were out of the latest sentries' hearing. MacTavish gave a gruff snort into the mic before responding with a clipped tone.

"Just meet me in the hangar." Then the connection was cut. Roach suppressed another laugh as he shouldered his ACR and moved away from the hut towards the hangar that was a barely visible blob through his goggles and the snowstorm. Trout followed looking wherever Roach wasn't; her suppressed UMP following her eyes.

The pair moved quietly through the whirling winds towards the back entrance of the hangar, the slick ice beneath their feet replaced with non-slick metal panels driven into the ice with nails. The rear entrance of the hangar came into sight, with the looming figure of Captain MacTavish following; a commandeered AK looking like a blunderbuss compared to the weapons the two younger operator's held at the ready.

"Took the scenic route, eh?" Captain MacTaviswh said as his eyes dotted to the blood that was sprinkled over the front of Trout and Roach's uniforms. For once Trout didn't make a comment as she moved to stand by the door, ready to head in with her shorter weapon at the ready as Roach took a crouch and looked over the six with his assault rifle.

The door opened with a creak that signaled it was in desperate need of some oil; Trout cringed at it as she went in low and covered the long, abandoned hallway. The clomp of booted feet on a concrete floor from an open door down the hall, caused Trout to lay her finger lightly on the trigger in preparation; when the soft soled boots of MacTavish came from her right and he rushed down the hall. Just as a technician in one of the hodgepodge uniforms strode out to his locker to retrieve some sort of object. Whatever he was looking for didn't prevent the mass of a fully grown spec ops soldier from slamming him into a locker and then to the floor, where a hand stifled his warning cry before the knife found the spot between the neck and the shoulder and severed the spinal cord in a swift stroke.

"Nice one, sir." Trout said sarcastically as she pushed pass MacTavish into the room, and found it empty except for the cold metal shell of a spy satellite.

"Roach, search for the DCM; trout lift up that cowling." MacTavish commanded as he strode in from the hall, a small camera in his hands and snapping pictures of the satellite as Trout lifted up pieces of the cowling to reveal the inner workings of the machine. Roach in the meantime ascended the metal stairs at the back of the room and found the DCM module sitting alone by a computer station; unplugged and ready to be picked up. Roach thought nothing of it as he stuffed it into a side carrier; that was until the doors rumbled open and the sounds of an amplified Russian voice carried through the stale air of the hangar.

Roach was already reaching for the detonator stored in his vest as he made his way to the small catwalk to see how deep in the shit they were.

* * *

"Three more!' Trout shouted over her shoulder from her position on the back of Roach's snowmobile. In the receding distance, more explosions continued to touch off and did an excellent job of highlighting the pursuing snowmobiles that were rapidly crawling up their tail. Despite the shaking, of the machine, Trout put her red dot more or less on the chest of the closest machine and sprayed out half her mag, hoping that the number of shots made up for her inaccuracy. It worked as the driver was stitched across his chest and fell forward pushing the handlebars towards the left and sending the vehicle and the gunner on the back, into a tree. "Got one!"

Roach didn't reply as the oncoming shape of MI-28 Havoc caused him to swerve to the left as a barrage of rocket fire slashed through the space he had just been and instead sent the remaining two snowmobiles out of control as the shrapnel cut through their crews and sent them spinning like throwing stars across the icy plains. The sudden appearance of another Russian snowmobile caused him to pull the machine pistol from it's holster strapped to the side of the machine and send the entire contents of the mag downrange; the gunner who had just been leveling a rifle shuddered and flopped back against the driver who jerked as a handful of rounds passed through the gunner and into him. The machine unlike the others just came to a halt with no more gas being pumped into the engine.

"How's it looking up there Roach?" Trout shouted as she sent another hoarse whisper of suppressed gunfire at a cluster of infantry piling out of a cabin. All of them dropped either hit or trying not to get hit; but the effect was the same in the essence none of them were returning fire to the fleeing snowmobile. The helicopter had peeled off by then after letting loose one final salvo of rockets that missed the snowmobile and only sent powdered snow into the air; the pilot believing that the gap up ahead would trap the infiltrators between the platoon's worth of commandoes making their way in a fleet of slower snow cats.

"Your gonna want to hold on for this." He shouted back over his shoulder as the snowmobile crested the beginning of the slope and caught a few seconds of air before hitting the down curving ramp and accelerating with the aid of gravity. Trout turned around after the jump, barely hanging on in her back facing position due to the use of her leg's and a sudden death grip of the seat; as they began their long slide down she turned quickly and wrapped her arms around Roach, mainly for the fact that she could hold onto the upraised front of the seat from her position hugging Roach's back.

"We die, and I'll kill you for this!" The female operator shouted into Roach's ear as the edge came up fast, and the snowmobile tried to fly. For a short instance the speed of the vehicle defied gravity before nature forced it down; right on the other side with a jarring thud. Roach felt his skull rattle around within the confines of his helmet, and the sudden pain that came with Trout's helmeted head slamming into the back of his armored one left a dull pain.

"WOOH! Take that you bastards!" Trout's jubilant cries sounded from behind Roach as the familiar sight of a CH-46 appeared like a golden chariot on the hill. Roach couldn't help but grin as the snowmobile drove directly up the ramp and into the bay, causing the startled crew chief and the newly arrived MacTavish to jump out of the way. Both shot a stare that could have killed them, but neither noticed as they reveled in the moment of having just made a seemingly impossible jump.

"Next time you can drive." Roach said as he pulled down his balaclava to reveal his stubble-coated face just before popping down onto a seat near the now closed rear ramp.

"Gladly" She replied pulling off her helmet and then her mask and allowing her short cut reddish-brown hair to fall down from where it had been stuffed inside the balaclava's confines. She looked up to ask another question to her comrade before she noticed he was asleep, his head lolled back against the thrumming interior of the helicopter; with a smirk she followed his example.

"When do you think they'll shag?" MacTavish spoke to the crew chief via the helicopter's intercoms, from his seat near the front; unheard over the sound of the lose rotors. The crew chief in turn withdrew a money clip and passed forty dollars to the Captain.

"Put me down for the next three months." The Captain accepted the money and made a notation in his logbook. Then with a new bet placed, he sat back and wondered at length on the blindness of young people.

 **Well hope you enjoyed this opening. If you liek it just leave a review; and if you don't like it leave one all the same. Also looking for beta readers and someone to help me make the dialogue more realistic. Well I'm signing off.**


End file.
